


i want to tell you everything

by hyacinthed



Series: being eleven is a real trial [1]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin, The Baby-Sitters Club (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Bittersweet, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Coming of Age, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Homophobic Language, Lesbian Character, biracial mary anne, lesbian kristy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyacinthed/pseuds/hyacinthed
Summary: kristy thomas is many things. headstrong. organised. driven. a lesbian.a story of self-discovery, of crushes and first loves, of change and stasis, inspired by "this town" by niall horan.
Relationships: Logan Bruno/Mary Anne Spier, Mary Anne Spier/Kristy Thomas
Series: being eleven is a real trial [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844602
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76





	i want to tell you everything

**Author's Note:**

> lesbian!kristy has been living in my head rent-free since i was eleven years old. the BSC series was many things to me as a kid, but most importantly, it helped me navigate my identity and changing relationships, and i hope this story can help pay homage to one of my favourite literary characters. also, AU that dawn never moved away ((dawn is my ride or die no questions shall be taken thx))

_And I remember everything_

_From when we were the children_

_Playing in this fairground_

* * *

You were tightening your ponytail, twisting the thin strip of elastic tighter, when you saw her.

"Mary Anne!" you call, jogging closer to the taller girl. "You came!"

She smiles at you then, a brilliant grin that seems to glow in contrast to her caramel skin.

"Of course I did. I'll never miss one of your games."

Your stomach was filled with butterflies, like the time you jumped off the pool steps and couldn't reach the bottom. It's a big game - of course you're nervous - but it was different, your hands were shaking, and you could never hide that from your best friend.

She hugged you, something your friends rarely did, but you let her, even hugged her back. You remember the sweet smell of the vanilla and coconut lotion she wore - the scent she'd picked out to impress Logan - just like you remember the way your butterflies turned into giant, swooping birds, bumping around inside you to escape. 

"You'll do amazing, Kristy. You always do. I'll see you after," she said, waving before returning to the bleachers.

You put your baseball cap on, fingers trembling, trying to think only of softball. 

That was the first time.

* * *

_Them butterflies they come alive_

_When I'm next to you_

* * *

The second time was three months later, the first day of ninth grade.

You were waiting on the stone steps of the art building with Dawn and Stacey, waiting for your other friends to join you. You'd all decided at the last club meeting that you'd walk in together on the first day so that none of you would get lost or scared. The high school was huge, probably double the size of the middle school, and it freaked you out. Even worse, it freaked out Mary Anne, who had told you countless times how scared she was of the older kids. You'd promised just as many times that you'd look out for her, that none of the upperclassmen would even talk to her without fearing the wrath of your softball bat, but today was the day and inside, you were scared, too.

Claudia and Mary Anne walked towards you, arms linked and heads close as they whispered about something, giggling. You felt your chest tighten watching them - Mary Anne was _your_ best friend, not Claudia's, and that should be _you_ \- but it all melted away when Mary Anne skipped over to sit beside you. The vanilla and coconut was gone, now, just like Logan, replaced by the sweet scent of mango. That one was Stacey's choice - a birthday gift from the week before - and you weren't sure if you liked it. It was different. Things were different.

Still, you couldn't help but grin when Mary Anne stretched out her legs beside you, nervously chattering about the dreaded First Day. You'd punched her on the shoulder, saying something or other about having her back, but your mind was elsewhere, entirely distracted by the zap of electricity that coursed through you when Mary Anne threw her arm around your shoulders. That didn't happen with Bart, or Alan, or even Steve. It was _weird_. And the butterflies were bigger this time, too, and it kind of made her feel dizzy. Maybe she'd tell Stacey about it later. Stacey always knew what to do.

* * *

_It's funny how things never change in this old town_

* * *

Tenth grade was the first year that you got detention. You'd always been a good kid, all of your report cards said that you were well-behaved, but that didn't stop you from slamming a punch right into Bryce Hall's nose. Trash talking didn't normally bother you - softball had made you an expert, and Sam and Charlie never stopped teasing her. Still, you'd felt your blood boiling whenever Bryce called out to you, always something gross and rude that your mom would never let you say. They'd learnt in biology that the human body had trillions of nerves, and he never failed to get on your every last one.

Your breaking point was in fifth-period gym on a wintery Thursday. It had started like every other day - lacing up your beat-up sneakers, throwing on a faded crewneck, jogging out of the changerooms to join the rest of the class on the football field. You didn't expect him to be there, though, and it made you frown. Why was he outside the girls' changerooms? You were about to say something, tell him to get lost, when he pushed you, hard, into the cold concrete wall.

"Not so tough now, huh, dyke? Where's all your friends at?" he jeered, his face contorted into an ugly sneer. 

You knew what dyke meant, kind of. Charlie had said it one time and Watson had told him, _no, absolutely not, never in my house_ , and they'd had to sit through one of his lectures. Still, you knew it meant something ugly, and you knew that Bryce was saying you liked girls. And you didn't! You'd dated boys before, he was wrong, wrong, wrong, and yet the word echoed in your head again and again like a stuck record.

And that was when you hit him. You'd drawn your elbow back and slugged him real good, just like Charlie had taught you the summer before, and you'd watched as the blood ran down his crumpled face. You didn't say anything after that, not when the Coach screamed at you, not when you'd been taken to the Principal, and not even when Mom asked you why. You couldn't tell them. You couldn't think about it. He was wrong. It was wrong.

* * *

_I saw that you moved on with someone new_

_It's hard_

_So hard_

* * *

Mary Anne got a new boyfriend in the spring, some dumb boy from their science lab that laughed too loud and too long. He sat with them at lunch, he walked Mary Anne home every day, and she spent practically all of her weekends with him. It sucked. You hung out with Dawn a lot instead. She'd gotten into running, and she joined you on lots of the runs Coach had you doing to condition yourself for the new season. You and Dawn didn't talk much, but you liked it anyway; it gave you lots of time to think, especially about how much you didn't like Ryan. 

Dawn spoke on your fifth lap of the track, and you'd jumped, not expecting the sudden break in the silence. "You should tell her, you know."

You didn't say anything for a moment. You didn't have to. Dawn had plenty to say.

"I see how you look at her and Ryan. I know you love Mary Anne. It's okay to say that you love her."

You wanted to tell her no, that she was wrong, but the words dried up on your lips as you looked across at her. You'd stopped running, and Dawn reached out to put her hand on your shoulder to comfort you, and it just made the tears come out like a geyser. You didn't cry. You never cried. Somehow, though, the two of you were standing in the football field, the same place you'd punched Bryce Hall months before, and you were crying. Crying over Mary Anne.

"I...I can't love her, Dawn. I've dated boys," you said, hoping that somehow Dawn was mistaken. You didn't like girls. You couldn't. 

"Did you like them? Or did you date them because we were dating boys? You don't have to like boys, Kristy. My mom says that not everyone does."

You'd cried more, snot dripping down onto your brother's old hockey jersey, and Dawn had stood beside you, saying nothing, simply there. You hadn't talked about it after that. Dawn had promised that she would never tell a soul, and they'd run together many times after that day, but the topic never came up again. It couldn't. 

You didn't see Mary Anne much that spring. You saw her around, saw her in the halls, but you couldn't bear to be near her. She was happy, so happy, and it felt like your entire world was falling apart, like you were losing yourself and your best friend in one fell swing.

You and Dawn started eating your lunch on the hills outside. 

* * *

_And I know its wrong_

_That I can't move on_

_But there's something about you_

* * *

You got busy with softball, and babysitting, and homework. That's what you told yourself, at least, whenever you made excuses to avoid spending time with Mary Anne and Ryan. It bugged you, the way that it was always Mary Anne and Ryan, never just Mary Anne, like she'd lost herself just like she'd lost herself to Logan in eighth-grade. You'd never do that, you thought, you'd never take her away from her friends. You would treat her better, you'd encourage her to do stuff on her own, like that pottery class at the community centre that she was always talking about. Ryan would never do that for her.

You almost forgot, too. The more time you spent away from her, the more that you could pretend that you were moving on, that you were better, and that you could be her best friend again. It had always been the two of you - best friends since childhood - and it was dumb to let a stupid crush get in the way of that. You were pretty sure that the feelings had gone away - Dawn had rolled her eyes when you told her, but Dawn was always cynical - and so the two of you decided to rejoin the rest of the club inside that lunch. Ryan was out sick that day - thank God, you might just hurl if you had to spend even more time looking at him - and you stole his vacant seat at the table. Mary Anne had thrown her arms around you, exclaiming with glee that you'd returned, and you felt bad for ever leaving. Just like you felt bad that your heart was beating in overdrive, thrumming in ecstasy at all the attention she was giving you. You'd sat extra close to her during lunch, sneaking glances at her whenever you could, memorising the way she threw her head back and laughed every time Claudia made a goofy joke, or whenever Stacey and her boyfriend were being extra barf-worthy. 

Mary Anne was different. There was lots to memorise, like the way she tapped her fingers distractedly on her cafeteria tray, or the new tiny scar that adorned her left eyebrow. You wanted to kiss it better, kiss it away, just like you did when you were kids and she'd sprained her ankle falling off her bike. You'd always been there for Mary Anne, and she'd always been there for you. It was foolish to think you'd ever be able to move on, that you could ever forget the way you'd loved her, when you always had. It was just a part of who you were.

* * *

_Over and over the only truth_

_Everything comes back to you_

* * *

You'd held Mary Anne as she cried in the winter, lamenting her break up with Ryan, and you tried to press down the feelings that threatened to escape. Mary Anne had sworn off boys, announcing that eleventh-grade was dedicated to herself and her friends and her studies, and part of you secretly wished that she was done with boys for good. You wished that you had a chance. 

You spent more time together that year, back to being two peas in a pod, just like when you were kids. Mr Spier even said the same thing, and it felt like you were going to explode with pride; earning his tacit approval was like hitting a home run, and you couldn't be happier.

Mary Anne spent almost every afternoon at your house, and she spent every night in your dreams, too. You couldn't help but notice how pretty she was, how much older she was starting to look. She'd grown plenty over the summer, becoming long and lean and absolutely captivating to you. She'd gotten into the habit of braiding her kinky hair back into tight rows taut against her scalp, and your fingers ached to touch the locks, to properly appreciate her beauty. You tried hard, so hard, to avoid looking at her for too long, worried she'd realise your secret. She didn't though, only Dawn knew, but you suspected that Claudia had her suspicions. 

Janine had gone off to college that year and had barely called home once a month. Suddenly, when she'd come home for summer vacation, she'd brought her girlfriend home to meet the Kishis, and Claudia could barely stop talking about how _adorable_ they were together. Mary Anne had nodded when she'd found out, saying that it just made sense, and you couldn't help but wonder if she'd say the same when you'd tell her your secret. You thought about telling her a lot. It took up your brain, dominating your thoughts night and day, and you were sure you'd get up the nerve one day. You had to.

* * *

_If the whole world was watching I'd_

_Still dance with you_

_Drive highways and byways to be_

_There with you_

* * *

Your palms were sweaty, so sweaty, and you almost dropped the chocolates when you reached up to ring the Spier's doorbell. Mr Spier answered the door, eyebrows raised as he took in your anxious appearance, and you almost lost your nerve. _This was a bad idea_. But then he'd invited you in, opened the door wider, and you'd walked into her home just like you always had. Mary Anne was up in her room, he said, and you thought again about running away. You couldn't now. It was too late.

Each stair led you closer to Mary Anne, and yet every step filled you with dread. The gravity of what you were about to do was setting in, and you couldn't help but fear her response. Her saying no would be terrible, but a yes might actually be worse. You cursed Dawn for talking you into this.

You raised your hand tentatively to knock on her door, but it was too late - she was already there, wrenching the door open as she excitedly launched into some chatter about the latest episode of her favourite show that she could _finally_ watch in her bedroom with her new television. She paused, looking at your frown, looking at the chocolates, before inviting you to come and sit down.

"Kristy," she said, nervously biting her lip, "you look like you're going to hurl. What's up?"

You took one long, shaking breath. It was happening, finally happening, the moment you'd spent countless hours dreaming about. 

"Mary Anne," you said, your voice wavering as you looked at your feet. "Do you want to go to the Sadie Hawkin's dance with me?"

You looked up at her then, heart sinking as her eyebrows crinkled together. 

"You're...you're asking me? Kristy, it's a dance. You know how dances work," Mary Anne said, confused.

This was going all wrong.

"I'm asking you because...because I like you, okay? I like you, now, and I always have. I like you, Mary Anne. I don't like boys. I like you," you said, your voice rising. It felt like you were going to cry, and you couldn't cry. Not here. Not now.

Mary Anne didn't say anything. You looked at her, and she was looking at you, giving you a look that you'd never seen before. Was it sadness? Pity? Confusion? You couldn't tell, and that scared you. Mary Anne was what you knew best, and this was all wrong.

"They'll talk about us," she said eventually, sniffling. Her voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper, and when you looked closely, you saw that she was crying. You didn't hug much, but you hugged her now, and she rested her chin comfortably on your head.

Your voice was muffled, but your intentions were clear. "I don't care what they say about us. I know how I feel about you, and I'll punch anyone that talks smack," you said, thinking about Bryce Hall and his pulverised nose. "I don't care if the whole world sees us. It won't change how I feel about you."

You heard her sniffle again, but her crying seemed to have stopped. She didn't talk for a long while, and neither did you, content to be held tight in her arms. It was all you'd wanted for so long, and you were finally getting a taste, and it was so much better than you'd imagined.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I'll go with you."

* * *

_And I want to tell you everything_

_The words I never got to say the first time around_

* * *

Mr Spier had cried when they told him they were dating, quiet shaking sobs that rocked his whole frame. Mary Anne had cried, too, and you didn't speak to her for an agonising four days. He'd come around eventually, and you were pretty sure that Dawn's mom had a lot to do with it. You were scared to tell your friends, scared that things would change, and Mary Anne had held your hand the whole time during that club meeting where you spilled your guts. Stacey and Claudia had squealed in excitement, and it turns out _they knew_ the whole time, that you were that obvious, and part of you was embarrassed but the other part was happy happy happy that you had the most beautiful girl in the world beside you, holding your hand.

You held hands a lot. You didn't really do more than that, aside from hug sometimes. You knew Mary Anne liked you, liked you a lot, but you'd never kissed anyone before, and you knew she'd never kiss you first. The thought terrified you. There wasn't much that scared or upset you, but it was always something to do with her. 

It took until the night of your senior prom to kiss her. You'd worried about it all night, in between deliciously slow dances and fast jives that had your sides aching from laughing so much. You and Mary Anne had snuck out to the balcony for some fresh air, hot and sticky from the constant dancing in the humid ballroom. You'd stumbled out, hand in hand, laughing and giggling into the cool night air. Something came over you in the moonlight, and when you turned to her, it all came spilling out.

"I think I love you," you said, tilting your head to look up at her.

She'd squeaked, pink rising high on her cheeks, blinking hard.

"Kristy Thomas," she'd said, slow and deliberate. "I think I might love you too."

And then they'd kissed, awkward and quick and bumbling, but it didn't matter, because you knew you loved her, and you knew she loved you, too. 


End file.
